Conspiracy Theory
by atree
Summary: Republic City. The corruption, the violence, the squalor. Beneath the surface lies a vast criminal underworld of sleazy gangs and sleazier politicians. It's an ugly, convoluted business, but then again, that's why nobody else has my job. Me. The Avatar. I'm a private eye. Crack, femslash, AU
1. Chapter 1: The First Part, Definitely

Warning: Crack, femslash, AU, OOC-ness

A/N: This started out as a crack idea and just grew from there. Republic City was my favorite part of Legend of Korra, and it seemed like such a perfect setting for a detective story. The Republic City in this fic is slightly grittier than the one in the show. Also, bending does not exist and several characters have been played around with.

Chapter One: The First Part, Definitely

I was nursing a bottle in the office when she came in. The lid had just been closed on the Cabbage Corp. case – hell, the newspapers had been running nothing else for a week straight – and I was drinking some celebratory shots of sake for a job well done. Not that you'd have heard about my involvement, of course. Wasn't my style. Some cash, a few favors, perhaps a kiss from some of the choicer dames, were all I asked for. The simple life, as that Arctic adage used to go. Besides, fame for a private eye got you nothing but a first-class ticket to the Spirit World.

So there I was, about to down another shot, when there came three knocks upon my door. I almost dropped the bottle in surprise (which definitely would've made a bad first impression). I hadn't been expecting any appointments for the day. Then again, the most interesting clients never made any. I didn't even have time to say "Come in!" before the brunette sauntered in like a cat with bad case of megalomania.

"Hello, there," I said suavely, stashing the bottle under the desk. "What can I do for you?"

She was a young lady, early twenties at the most, with an air of refinery sticking to her like green on a hundred-yuan bill. Her eyes were almond-shaped emeralds set deep in her face, the sort of eyes those sappy buddies of mine were always mooning over. Long black hair spilled down to her bare back revealed by the low-cut dress she wore. Not even her poise could disguise her nervousness, however. Wringing her hands, she looked around the room like a fire ferret in a cage, eyes flitting from object to object, never settling on anything. When she came closer I smelled the scent of perfume and oil and money.

Did I mention she was hotter than the sun over the Si Wong Desert?

"Are you the one they call the Avatar?" she asked.

"And if I am?" I tried not to sound too pleased. I was the one who started that. Chicks dig pseudonyms.

She bit her full-blooded lips, the pearly white teeth making slight marks on the lipstick. "I have need of your…services."

"Anything for you, babe."

"I need you to find out something for me."

"You're going to need to be a little more specific than that," I said. It was probably the usual fare – a forgotten friend, an unfaithful husband, an over-zealous suitor, etc. Rich girls like her never had legit worries, though they often fooled themselves into thinking so. Casually, I eyed her left hand. No ring – a good sign. "But if it's a lover or husband of any of that messy business, you can forget it. I don't do spousal affairs. Personal policy."

Her green eyes batted like a hummingbird's wings. "I don't have a lover."

"Oh, really?" Immediately, I perked upright in my chair and smoothed over my hair. "Perhaps it's time you looked into one."

"I need you to find out the truth about my father."

So that was it – perhaps her rich dad was loose with women, perhaps he had some violent drinking habits, perhaps he got caught sniffing leechi leaves. It was standard fare. I've had half a million similar meetings in the dim, unlighted confines of my office (I purposely left the curtains down so the place looked more mysterious). Trivial cases like these were the bread-and-butter of any private eye. I hadn't known this when I first started, of course – back then, I had expected to save the world on a regular basis. Hell, I still did, and occasionally did just that – but these cases paid the bills, so I'm not complaining. What surprised me, however, was the gravity of her tone. I had learned long ago not to judge a catgator by the color of its stripes. Hidden beneath those doe eyes and porcelain skin was a woman who knew exactly why she came here.

Relaxing against my chair, I tried to appear nonchalant, as if pitching woo was how I greeted all my clients. Just because she didn't come _looking _for love didn't mean she wasn't going to find it. Taking a cigarette from my pocket, I lit up, letting the tip illuminate my face.

"Spill it," I said, trying not to cough. These cigars were a nasty business. Probably gave you all sorts of diseases, if the doctors were right. But it just made you look so damn cool. "I got an appointment with the Chief of Police in an hour. I don't have all day."

"I think my father's an Equalist."

The cigarette hung lopsided in my gaping mouth. I stared at her like she had just said she was a badgermole. "An _Equalist_? Darling, do you even know what you're saying?"

The Equalists were a new underground movement that started in Republic City less than a year ago. It was young, but had gained traction faster than a metalshirt sank in water. Their platform, as much as a nebulous pseudo-gang could have one, was for equality of all citizens before the law. In short, they wanted an end to Republic City's rampant corruption and political abuse. An end to bribery, kickbacks, embezzlement, blackmail, graft…the list could drag on from here to Ba Sing Se. But the Equalists weren't one of those peaceful cactus-drinking hippies. They fought violence with more violence, dished out as hard as they received. They kidnapped Council members, extorted public officials, played the Triads off one another. Messy stuff. Dangerous stuff. Stuff I had never wanted to get entangled in again after Cabbage Corp.

"I'm Asami Sato. My father is Hiroshi – "

At this point the cigar dropped out of my mouth and I stared at her like she just said she could bend fire.

" – Sato. You've probably heard about my father. He's the inventor of the Satomobile and the CEO of Future Industries. He's never mistreated anyone in his life, and I'd never imagine him having anything to do with a criminal group, but…over the past few months he's been acting strange. At first I thought I was just being crazy, but then it got more and more obvious that something had happened to him. Something had changed him. Before, he had always been very open with me about his business plans and new inventions. Now, he almost never talks to me anymore, and I never see him anywhere outside his office or lab. It's like he's a completely different person! I – I don't know what I should do!"

Swallowing audibly, I fished out another cigar and lit up, not even noticing the previous one burning a hole in my lap. If any other girl had just told me what she did, I'd send her packing to the loony bin. But one look at Asami Sato told me all I needed to know – she was too cultured to be anyone else, too desperate to be lying. Asami Sato. _Hiroshi Sato. _This was Big. Republic City Big. United Nations Big. Big with a capital B.

"Start over from the beginning," I said. "Tell me everything you know."

"My father and I are very close. My mother was killed in a robbery ten years ago, so we're the only family we have left. I can tell you for a fact that my father's not the violent type – he wouldn't hurt a hair on a glowfly! – but that all started to change two months ago. Small things, at first, but it quickly escalated. He's been coming home late every evening and won't tell me where he's been. He has his bodyguards with him everywhere he goes, even within our own house. I see blueprints on his desk for inventions he never told anyone about. People drop by at our house during odd hours – disreputable people, the type my father would never associate himself with, but he greets them like he's known them his entire life. Sometimes I overhear him on the phone talking about smuggling some sort of metal – are you alright?"

I ground the cigar against the table. In my shock, I had actually inhaled some of the stuff; the smoke rose up my throat, making my eyes water. "Don't worry about me, darling. You story was just so heartbreaking I couldn't help but shed a few tears. Please, continue."

"It was like I was living with a different person. My father kept to himself all the time, acted like something was hunting him. Like _I _was hunting him. He was a stranger to me. However, even with all his suspicious behavior, I would've still trusted him, if not for..." Nervously, she caught my eyes; I gave her a reassuring smile…"if not for what happened four days ago. I was driving through the industrial district when I saw them. They were talking in front of a factory while some hired hands loaded heavy boxes onto a truck. I recognized my father instantly. I also recognized the man he was talking to. It was Lightning Bolt Zolt."

First, the Equalists. Now, the Triple Threat Triad. Next thing she's going to tell me is that Yakone's back from the grave.

"After that, I knew I couldn't stay silent any longer. I needed to find out the truth, before my father got in too deep to pull back out. I heard about you from the Cabbage Corp. case. Lau Gan-Lan was a well-known associate of my father's and often met with him. I thought they were just business associates, but ever since Lau got arrested for being an Equalist sympathizer I've begun to have my doubts. If you could put someone as powerful as Lau behind bars, I know you'll be able to get to the bottom of this. Please, you must help my father!"

"Lau Gan-Lan was a piece of _cabbage_," I said automatically, then remembered that this was no time for clever wordplay. "These are serious accusations you're throwing around. The Equalists are crazy. Amon is crazy. Crazy enough to have a kill-on-sight order from the metalshirts. Are you sure you want to get into this?"

She nodded. No hesitation, no doubt. Her lips were pressed in a firm red line, her eyes as set as two chips of ice. Despite myself, I was impressed. This girl had guts.

"Alright, I'll take your offer," I said, ignoring my survival sense like the Wolfbats ignored rules. Leaning forward, I fixed her with a gaze that I hoped was aloof and penetrating. "Has your father ever harbored any Equalists tendencies? Attended any Equalist rallies? Accepted any Equalist fliers? Eaten any Equalist food? Breathed any Equalist air?"

"I…I don't know about the last few, but he's always blamed the government for my mother's death," she said glumly. "He said that they didn't do enough to prevent crime. He said that they were more worried about money than the people. He said that the gangs had the entire Council in their pocket. If the bureaucrats took their jobs seriously, my mother wouldn't have died. A lot of our friends felt the same way. I didn't – I didn't think he's actually go so far."

"Slow down, we haven't confirmed anything yet," I said, though admittedly the prospects weren't looking so bright. "Does he have any connections to the gangs besides Lightning Bolt Zolt?"

"Not that I know of. Seeing him talk with Zolt was already a huge shock."

"Does he have any previous criminal records?"

"No."

"Any suspicious friends?"

"No."

"Any unexplainable disappearance of funds?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, then bit her lip. "I'm not sure. The company's forced to publish its profit for each quarter, so he hasn't been embezzling any money if that's what you were after. As to his personal fortune, I can't attest to that. He could be spending it any way he pleases."

"Including funneling it to Equalists?"

"That's…possible."

I sat back in the chair. Hiroshi had the means and the motive. Things weren't looking good for the poor girl. "Thank you, Asami. You're a brave gal, coming to me like this. Few people would have the courage to do what you're doing."

"If – if he does turn out to be an…an Equalist, you won't tell the police, will you?" she asked imploringly. Placing one hand against desk, she leaned towards me, her emerald eyes glossy with unshed tears. I forced myself to tear my gaze away from her chest and focus on her face. "This is just between us, okay? Our little secret?"

"Of course," I assured her. "I'm a private eye. We work outside the law. Our only loyalty is to our clients, and in this case, darling, that'll be you. You can trust me on that."

She smiled in relief. My heart jumped like a Kuai ball.

"Thank you, detective."

I took a deep breath and gathered my bearings. Damn it, Korra. You're a professional, not a teenager during puberty (alright, so I was that, too). "That's all I need for now. I'll contact you if I find anything. The streets aren't safe after dark, so you should get going quickly."

"When can I see you again?"

"It'll be safer for me to contact you. You never know who might be watching. Just give me a phone number and I'll keep you up_dated_. It'll be a _date_."

Again, she didn't seem to notice my masterful control of words. Scribbling down a number, she bowed and turned to leave.

I cleared my throat. "One last thing before you go. The matter of my payment."

She nodded. "Of course. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced at this sort of thing. How much do you need?"

A beauty with an unlimited pocketbook – truly, she must be an angel. "Two thousand yuan up front, and two hundred per day afterwards. Two thousand more after the case is over."

Alright, so the price was a bit steeper than what I usually charged, but the case was also a bit steeper than what I usually took. Executives, Equalists, gangs – I'm risking my life over here. Surely that was worth at least a few extra yuan? Besides, this girl didn't look like she would miss a few yuan (or a few hundred). Lately – I'll be honest here – business hasn't been so good. The metalshirts had been on a crackdown, damn that Bei Fong. The Cabbage Corp. case had barely been enough to pay last month's rent. I wasn't about to let my conscience get in the way of some profitable usury.

Asami took out a leather wallet and set it down on my desk. The _thud _it made told me it could only contain one thing.

"There's three thousand yuan in that bag, enough for the initial fee and five days of work," she said. "Just call me if you need any more. And if you do solve the case, you can expect more than a two thousand yuan bonus. _Much _more."

"I'm in love," I murmured, then said in a louder voice, "Of course, Asami. You can count on me."

"I know I can, detective."

She walked out with a hypnotic sway in her hips and a little bit of drool in my mouth. The moment the door closed, I immediately split opened the purse and riffled through the bills. A hundred tsungi horns couldn't match the sound of greenbacks slapping against greenbacks. Three thousand yuan total, not a single fen short. I let out a loud whoop and thrust my fist in the air. I was set for the next six months. This called for a celebration. Maybe I'll put on my evening dress, go out for a classy evening at Kuang's –

No, Korra, you goddamn idiot. That little dove is counting on you, and here you are, already fooling around like you've solved the case. I slammed my face against the desk. And what the hell are you thinking, blowing fifty yuan on that pretentious grease-processing plant? Reluctantly, I stashed the money in the safe, leaving myself only three hundred yuan. It should be enough to tide me over for a week or two, if I was frugal. You never know when there's a dry spell and you suddenly find yourself eating nothing but sea prune stew for a week straight until just the sight of a sea prune made you want to vomit.

I looked at the clock on the wall. Eight o'clock. Perfect. I grabbed my coat and headed through the door. Those two would be just getting home from the factory, and they might just be the key to solving this case.

* * *

The industrial district was the fastest-growing district in Republic City, and also the most impoverished. I coughed, trying to breathe as little as possible – smog clogged the air thicker than Narook's seaweed soup. And it was only slightly less healthy for you. Factories lined every street, one right after another, belching out smoke until the sky was only a distant memory. Squalid men and women in tattered clothes squatted on the sidewalks. They were smoking, drinking, and gambling away what little money they earned from slaving in the factories. Looking at them almost put me in a charitable mood. Sometimes, I came here when I was feeling down in the dumps. As poorly as my detective agency was doing, I was better off than these guys.

Right now, however, I came for a different reason besides schadenfreude (I try to sneak that word in whenever possible). I stopped in front of one of the worker's housing tenants. It was a squat, lop-sided building with half the rooms caved in and a roof flimsier than a politician's excuse for a concubine. Also, it smelled worse than a buffalo yak. Standing in front of the door made me want to puke, but I steeled my stomach, driven by the image of a green-eyed, black-haired angel waiting anxiously.

I gave three knocks on the door. The orphan brothers lived here, though 'live' is a misleading word since they spend more time in the factories than in their house. They had helped me out in the past, providing brute muscle when I needed it. A pair of fighters with professional boxing experience, I found, was very useful when I got caught behind the eight-ball. Though dirty, poor, and not very bright, they were overall a pair of nice guys. Well, Bolin was, at any rate. Mako, not so much. Nonetheless, they had information I needed.

The door opened to an irate-looking Mako. His shirt was soaked with sweat and oil and his skin was the same color as his hair. He must have just gotten back home from work. When he saw me, his jaw clenched visibly beneath the sooty skin.

"Korra, what the hell are you doing here?"

Did I forget to mention they hated my guts?

"There's my favorite pair of brothers!" I said, which was not a lie. They were the _only _pair of brothers I knew. "How's life been treating ya? Still working twelve hours a day at the factory?"

"Fourteen hours, actually," Bolin said, popping up beside Mako. "They raised it last week."

"Hey, it could always be worse, right? At least it's not _fifteen _hours. Or sixteen, or seven – "

Mako held up a hand. "Enough of this, Korra. I thought I told you we never wanted to see your face again after you ditched us in the qualifiers. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, right, I almost forgot about that," Bolin said, crossing his arms. "Not cool, Korra. The ref thought we fixed that match. You got us disqualified from the ring for a year!"

"That's exactly what I came here for!" Damn, so they still remembered that. I slipped into the room under Mako's arm. Their apartment was a single room with bunk beds in the corner and a stove near the side wall. It was almost completely bare, and that was saying something considering how small it was. The acolytes on Air Temple Island would be jealous of their asceticism. On a chair next to the door, Pabu was sleeping. He woke up and hissed the moment I stepped inside, his sharp little fangs gleaming under the light of the lamp. I hope the little bugger had his shots – oh hell, who am I kidding. Those two couldn't even afford shots for _themselves_, let alone their pet. If that thing bit me, I was as good as dead.

"Let bygones be bygones, that's what the acolytes always say," I said, plopping down on a chair far away from the fire ferret. "Couldn't the world use a bit more love? Couldn't we all do our part in cleaning up Republic City by being _just _a bit nicer to each other?"

"That's not how you acted when you left us to dry in the qualifiers."

"Mako, you're still bitter about that? I already said I was sorry. What else do you want?"

"You think an _apology _is going to cut it? Do you know how much we lost because of you?"

"The most important things in life can't be bought with money," I said sagely, "friendship among them. We _are _friends, right?"

"Not on your life."

"Come on, it was one little match. Can't you forget about it already?"

"It was one little match that got us banned for an entire year!"

"Like you would've even gotten that far in the tournament without me," I said dismissively. "I told you I would only be a temporary substitute, but you went ahead and took me on anyway. Besides, what the hell are you getting so worked up for? I thought that with all the money you get doing jobs for the Triple Threat Triad – "

"We split with them years ago!" Mako shouted, slamming a fist against the wall. "I don't know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull, but throwing around false accusations isn't going to help you!"

Bolin, meanwhile, had gone white as a sheet and stiff as a board. He had always been brutally honest, the poor kid. He couldn't lie his way out of a room of six-year olds.

"Your brother disagrees with you," I said casually.

Mako whirled on him. "She's lying! You tell her, Bo. We cut our ties with the Triad years ago. You haven't been dealing with them, right? You tell her!"

Bolin fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. His lower lip stuck out like a drawbridge, his wide green eyes staring resolutely at a patch of dirt on the ground. Mako's whole body was as taut as a metalshirt wire, then gradually, his heaving shoulders sagged and sagged until he had the stringency of a smoke sea slug. I wish I brought some popcorn along. The flicks were nothing compared to this.

"Goddamn it, Bo."

"I couldn't help it! They gave me ten times our factory wage!"

"I told you not to mess with those guys! No matter how much money they're offering you, it's not worth it. What the hell were you thinking?"

"It was completely safe, they said, under the table – "

"How long has this been going on?"

"Not long, only a few weeks."

"A few weeks? Are you crazy? These are the _Triple Threat Triads_, the most notorious gang in Republic City. And you _trusted_ them?"

I gave a loud cough. Bolin looked like he wanted to sink through the floor (given the quality of the building, it wasn't out of the question), and things were going nowhere at this rate. After all, I didn't come here to help these two make up. "If you're done being enlightened," I said, "perhaps we can discuss the reason for my coming here?"

"This is a matter between me and my brother," Mako snapped. "It's none of your business."

"I heard Bei Fong is handing out a premium for info on the Triads these days – "

"That's low, Korra, even for you."

I scowled. That hurt. Really, it did. Couldn't he see it had been an empty threat? If I walked into the police station, Bei Fong would clap me in handcuffs before I could utter a word. Besides, even if Bei Fong didn't hate me like a hog monkey hated a bath, I would never sell out my favorite pair of brothers. Well, except that last time in the arena, and that one other time at the docks a few months ago. But bygones were bygones now, right?

"So _that's _how you got the money to buy our new stove," Mako said. "Pabu's circus tricks didn't earn a cent of it!"

"How do _you _know? Don't listen to him, Pabu, Iknow how much potential you have."

"You need to cut ties with them right now."

"Right now? But they already paid me in advance for next week's job!"

"Don't forget about me over here," I added helpfully. "You know, your guest who came all the way here to speak – "

"You give them back the money and tell them you won't have anything to do with them anymore. How much did they give you?"

"Not much, I swear!"

"That's even worse!"

"Forty yuan. And they promised another forty after the job is done."

"What kind of job was it?"

"Just some…some bodyguard work," Bolin mumbled.

Bodyguard work. That was slang for turf war.

For a moment Mako looked like he was about to hit him, his fists clenched so tightly they were shaking. Then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall with a _thud_ shook the rafters. "Promise me one thing, Bo," he said in a tired voice. "Promise me you'll never have anything to do with the Triple Threat Triads ever again."

"I promise…and I'm sorry, bro. I know I shouldn't have done it."

He meant it, too, the poor guy. Bolin was earnest, you had to credit him for that. But in another month he'll be suckered again, if the past two times were indicative of anything. It was like that verse from the scriptures about the polar bear dog returning to his vomit. Except I can't remember Naga vomiting a single time in my life.

"You two should just kiss already," I said. "Save us some time."

"Korra! I've already said this is none of your business."

"I'm not leaving until I get what I came for."

"If you don't get out in five seconds," Mako growled, "I swear I'll throw you out myself."

"You think you can fight me? I may have taught you everything you know, but I haven't taught you everything _I_ know."

"You didn't teach me anything! You were with us for two weeks!"

"This is no time for schadenfreude – "

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Are you going to give me the information I want, or not?" I crossed my arms and put on my I-can-do-this-all-night face. "You don't seem to realize I just did you a favor. Better you find out from me than from a metalshirt knocking on your door."  
"Do you promise to leave and never show your face here again?"

"The first part, definitely. Second part, not a chance."

Mako threw his hands up in the air. "Do what you want. I'm sick of arguing with you. It's like arguing with a boarcupine." He frowned. "Actually, what _are _you here for?"

"I need info on the Triple Threat Triad," I said, shooting a glance at Bolin. "Specifically, on Hiroshi Sato."

"Hiroshi Sato?" Bolin said. "_The _Hiroshi Sato? CEO of Future Industries? Richest man in the world?"

"None other," I said, pleased with his reaction. "I have a pretty big case on my hands at the moment. You wouldn't believe this, but _Asami Sato_ – " Mentally, I slapped myself. Get it together, Korra. It's been less than a day and already you're blowing it. " – I mean, my vast underground network of spies informed me that Hiroshi Sato might have some less-than-stellar tendencies, if you catch my drift."

"You think Hiroshi Sato has ties with the Triple Threat Triad," Mako said in disbelief.

"That's…not as impossible as it sounds." Bolin scrunched his eyebrows together in that way he always did when he was trying very hard to remember something. "I overheard a couple of guys talking about Hiroshi last week. Some kind of deal with Zolt, I think. A huge amount of money was supposed to be coming our way."

Bingo. So Hiroshi and Zolt were working together after all. It might even have something to do with what Asami saw two days ago. Since the gangs and the Equalists weren't on friendly terms, the Equalists were probably using Hiroshi as a middleman to deal with them. Maybe the Equalists wanted some hush-hush services only possible below law. Or maybe Hiroshi intended on dismantling the organization from within. Or maybe they were going to set up the Triple Threat Triad to go to war with another gang. There were countless ways this whole thing could play out.

"Can you be more specific?" I said excitedly. "What kind of deal? For what? At what time?"

"It was something about a shipment of…platters? Platypus? Platimoney? It's been a while, my memory's kind of hazy."

"Have you heard about any attacks on a rival gang?" I pressed. "Or kidnappings? Or extortion? Or any new weapons?"

Bolin shook his head. "Sorry, Korra, that's all I remember. I'm not very high up in the Triad – "

"He's not going to _be _in the Triad for much longer," Mako added.

" – so they don't tell me anything important. If you want more info, you should talk to Tahno. Anything that goes on in the Triads, he'll know about."

"Tahno, that slimeball," I muttered. I should've figured Republic City's most notorious match fixer would be related to this somehow. "He has a finger in half the shady deals in this city."

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for," Bolin said. In a conspiratory whisper, he continued, "Let's keep my involvement with the Triad just between the three of us, alright? There's no need for Bei Fong to get all tangled up in this mess."

"If you don't, I'll rip you apart and leave you for the buzzard wasps," Mako growled.

"No problem," I assured them. "I'll never sell you guys out. Again, I mean."

Mako held the door open like a porter. "Is that all you needed? You got what you came for, so get out. Or do you plan on staying for dinner?"

"No thanks. I don't even want to look at the slop you guys call food." The rations given to factory workers made Narook's seaweed soup look like the finest snow crabs from the Arctic. I wouldn't be surprised if there were bits of Pabu in there. The fire ferret did seem a little skinnier lately.

At the doorway, I reached into my coat and pulled out a wad of cash. Asami's perfume still lingered on the bills.

"Here," I said, tossing it to Mako.

He stared at it like it was a barrel of blasting jelly. "What's this?"

"Money, or have you forgotten what yuan looked like? It's a tip for the info."

"There's at least a hundred yuan in here! What's the catch?"

"There is no catch," I said, stepping out into the hallway. Alright, so maybe I _was _feeling a little bit guilty about what I did to them back at the arena. "And when I get to the bottom of this case, I'll treat you guys to dinner. Not Narook's either. It'll be Kuang's as much as you can eat."

Hell, I'd even treat Bei Fong to dinner if Asami delivered the money she promised me. Closing the door on their half-hearted protests, I started the trek back to my office (it doubled as my house in times of financial trouble, which was always). In my mind, I was already setting up a plan to get some one-on-one time with everyone's favorite boxing champion. I cracked my knuckles. It was time to give Tahno the fight he should've gotten years ago.


	2. Chapter 2: If I Told You

Chapter Two: If I Told You, I'd Have to Kill You

"So there was I, bleeding on the floor while all three of the Tigerdillos advanced. Each of them must have had twenty pounds on me, with muscles as big as cannonballs. I look to my right. Ming was out cold. I look to my left. Shaozu couldn't even stand up. I look straight ahead. Just me versus three of the biggest brutes boxing has ever seen. I grit my teeth. Blood pounded in my ears. The crowd was crazy that night, screaming so loudly that the entire Arena shook. _Tahno. Tahno._ There was no way I was going to let these posers walk away with my title and twenty-five thousand yuan. Wiping the blood from my mouth, I picked myself up from the floor. It was go time."

"You're _so _brave," I said in a sing-song voice. "What_ever _happened next?"

"The first one lunged towards me. He was massive, as big as a…well, a Tigerdillo. I dodged to the left and sank my fist into his gut as he went by. It was like punching a brick wall. I almost broke my hand, but his momentum did most of the work. He dropped like a stone and didn't get up again. The second one snarled, spit flying from his mouth like a fire lily during monsoon season. The look in his eyes told me he wanted my head. His fist came at me like a speeding Satomobile, and it would've been the end of me, too, if I hadn't barely managed to duck out of the way in time. His other fist came at me from below. I saw it coming a mile away and blocked it with my arms. Now he was wide open. I got him once, twice, three times in the face before he managed to recover. He didn't even look phased. That bugger knew how to take a beating, I'll credit him that much. He lunged at me again, but this time I was ready. As his arms reached out to grab me, I rushed forward. A right hook, then a left hook, then a right hook again. _Bam bam bam._ He went down cold. For a full ten seconds there was silence as the ref gave the count, then the entire Arena erupted. _Tahno. Tahno. _And that, ladies, is how I retained my Championship title for the fifth year running."

"What about the third one?"

"What third one?"

"The third Tigerdillo," I said. "There were three, remember? You took down the first two, what happened to the third?"

"Huh? Oh – right, err…I got him with the patented Tahno One-Two Punch. It was textbook. Boring, really. I didn't think it was worth mentioning."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. For the past thirty minutes I had sat at a table in Narook's listening to Tahno recount every championship match he's ever had and, of course, won handily. His stories straddled the cusp between outright lie and ridiculous fantasy. Only the presence of four of his fangirls prevented me from strangling his throat, and even then, I was tempted to strangle them along with him.

The stink of week-old fish soup wafted from our bowls. I had no clue why someone as rich as Tahno would even eat at Narook's when he could afford to have Kuang personally cook every one of his meals. Greaseballs naturally liked other greasy things, I suppose. Tahno drank his soup so quickly it looked like he was manipulating the water.

"The key to boxing," he said, wiping his mouth, "is the left hook. Any idiot can do a right hook, but it takes real skill to do a left hook like I can. You gotta snap your arm just right, maximize the power, and let me tell you, ladies, it's not as easy as it sounds to do with your off-hand. I could write a textbook on it alone."

I batted my eyelashes, trying to look worshipful. It came out like I was squinting really hard, I think. "You're _so _strong, Tahno. How can _anyone _in Republic City _ever _compare to you?"

Damn, that came out way too sarcastic.

"Of course, babe," he drawled. "I'm the best there is. I've never lost a match. Talent, I suppose you could call it. Of course, I'm talented in other things besides boxing, if you catch my drift."

The other girls sitting around the table giggled, covering their crooked yellow teeth behind their sleeves. The most amazing thing I learned in the last half hour was that Tahno actually had fans. Not people who liked him only because they bet on him, but actual _fans. _These girls seemed to believe he was a big shot boxing star who could wipe the floor with anyone in Republic City. They also seemed to believe he won all his matches three-vs.-one. Have they even watched any of his matches? Tahno's cheating was so blatant it made season two's romantic subplot look subtle and well-constructed.

"I would _love _to get to know you better," I said, sidling up to him. "Can we perhaps go somewhere more…private?"

"Aw, no fair!" one of the girls whined. "You can't keep him to yourself!"

"That's right! What about us?"

"Tahno belongs to everyone!"

"Stay with us!"

Tahno was deaf to their cries. Sliding an arm around my shoulder, he said, "Of course, babe. How about we head back to my mansion? I can drive you there in my 168 Mercedes Satomobile."

"I can't wait that long," I whined. "Let's step into the back alley for…a more private conversation. Just the two of us."

He nodded ferociously. The degenerate dirtbag was practically panting with lust at this point, his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a kangadog in summer. I didn't blame him. Considering the company he usually kept, just the sight of an attractive girl (me) was like Aang's second coming. He'd probably faint on the spot if he ever saw Asami.

Narook's had a back alley that was deserted this time of night, which both Tahno and I were very glad of, though for different reasons. Outside, smog covered the city like a film of paint over water, blocking the moon and stars and leaving only the flickering electric street lamps for light. Garbage bags covered the ground like spots on a polar leopard. The air was heavy with the stench of rotten fish. Narook, that upstanding chef, must be saving money by dumping his trash outside instead of disposing it properly. Either that, or he got his ingredients from here.

The moment we stepped into the alley, Tahno smirked, arched my chin with a finger, and bent down for a kiss.

I slammed my fist into his gut. He doubled over, wheezing like a broken engine.

"What the hell was that for – "

"_I'll_ ask the questions tonight," I snarled, pushing him against the wall. That punch was the second-most satisfying punch I've thrown in my entire life, right after the time I clocked Bei Fong in the face. "Better start talking unless you want some broken ribs. Or broken fingers, whichever I'm in the mood for at the moment."

"So you're into that sort of thing? I'm cool with that – "

I punched him in the gut again, a bit harder this time. "I'm not joking, Tahno."

"Who…who are you?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." I flexed my fingers. "That was a joke, by the way, don't look so faint. All you need to know about me is that I can hurt you. Badly."

"A-Alright…What…What do you want?"

"I need info on Hiroshi Sato. How's he connected with the Equalists? What does he want with the Triple Threat Triad? What's he smuggling?"

His eyes flickered back and forth. "Hiroshi Sato? Who's Hiroshi Sato? What makes you think I know anything about Hiroshi Sato?"

I punched him in the gut a third time. "Don't lie to me. I know there's a deal between Hiroshi and Zolt. I know you know what it was. Give me the answers. _Now. _Or I won't pull my punches any longer."

He moaned in pain. "Hiroshi contacted Zolt two months ago," he said, clutching his stomach. "I don't know the details, but Hiroshi wanted some platinum. A massive amount of platinum – "

At least Bolin had gotten half the word right.

" – that exceeded what Omashu could supply. Omashu has other clients in Republic City, and they didn't want to favor Hiroshi over anyone else. That's where the Triple Threats came in. We were supposed to get the platinum by seizing every ship carrying it into the city, and then secretly turning it over to him. Four times the market price for each ton, he promised. We delivered him twelve shipments in total. Last one came three days ago. Earned us a hefty sum, too." He looked at me suspiciously. "When I say 'we,' I mean the Triple Threats, of course. I didn't take part in any of this personally, you understand. Someone as prestigious as me needs to keep a clean record for the metalshirts."

"That makes two of us. What does Hiroshi want with so much platinum?"

"No clue. You'd need to ask him yourself."

Platinum was a rare metal, extremely durable, extremely strong. Also extremely expensive. None of Hiroshi's current inventions used it. It had to be for something else, something so important he would risk consorting with the Triads to get.

I scrutinized Tahno with a critical eye. "That was too easy. Aren't you even going to _try _and fight back?"

"Why should I?" he asked, alarmed. "Don't you want me to cooperate?"

"Yeah, but I figured that since you're boxing champion and all, you'd at least put up somesort of fight. I've had more difficulty wriggling info out of street urchins. I know you're a cheat and a dirty coward, but you have to have at least _some _fighting skill, right?"

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" he snorted. "I've never gotten into a serious fight in my life and I don't plan on ever doing so. Boxing is for idiots. Let them break their fists or noses or whatever else they want to break. The smart guys sit back, bribe the opponents, bribe the refs, bribe the announcer, bribe the bookies, the whole shebang, and win without ever needing to sprain a finger. Afterwards, the Triad gives you a cut of the earnings made from betting. _That's _how you make money. What kind of idiot actually boxes for real?"

I'll admit it: I was impressed. You had your typical villains, the gang members and moneylenders and politicians, and then you had the villains one step above them. These were the villains who were villains for villains' sake. These were the villains who made orphans cry just to drink their tears. These were the villains who wouldn't put five yuan in the collection box without taking ten yuan out. They wore their villainy like a badge of pride. They had villainy down to an art form, and I was talking to the greatest artist of them all. To show him just how impressed I was, I punched him in the gut again.

"What the hell was that for!"

"For being a scumbag. One last thing. Where can I find Zolt?"

"I don't know –"

I drew back my fist. "You better start knowing real fast, or – "

"I swear I don't know!" he said frantically. "Zolt disappeared three days ago. No traces, no clues, nothing. It was like he just vanished from the face of the planet. We've combed the entire city searching for him, but no success. Some say he's dead. Others say Bei Fong finally got to him. The only fact is that nobody knows where he's gone. You have to believe me!"

"I think you're lying. I think you're just covering up for your boss. If he's missing, how come I haven't heard about it yet?"

"I swear I'm telling the truth! Zolt is the lynchpin of the organization, alright? For him to suddenly disappear like this, there'll be a huge stir. We've been trying to keep it a secret. If one of the other gangs found out, that'll be the end of the Triple Threat Triad. Believe me, I want to know where Zolt is as much as you do. If I ever find out, I swear you'll be the first person I tell it to!"

Zolt, missing? Looking at Tahno's quivering figure, I decided he was telling the truth. He was too cowardly to lie directly to my face and too stupid to make up such an elaborate lie on the spot. Zolt had been the leader of the Triple Threats for over a decade, and now he goes missing two months after Hiroshi contacts him. I furrowed my eyebrows. This was too much of a coincidence. The Equalists were moving faster than I anticipated. Zolt had been disposed of the minute he outlived his usefulness.

Nervously, Tahno licked his lips. "The last place we heard from Zolt was the docks. Depot 37. We've had a base there for a while. Easy place to lay low, easy access to the ships. Maybe you'll find something there."

"You've been quite helpful, Tahno."

"You'll let me go now, right? No more punches?"

"You can rest assured," I said, then slammed his head against the brickwork. He went down like a puppet with its strings cut. "And I do mean _rest._"

I turned away, heading towards the docks. Honestly, I was disappointed. I had been hoping Tahno would resist a more so I could punch him a few more times, but he's been so well-behaved that _I _would seem like the villain if I hurt him anymore. I hadn't even broken anything. In the morning he'd be as healthy as ever save for a few bruises, and, if I slammed his head justright, almost no recollection of tonight's events. I didn't need any more enemies remembering my face.

Maybe a few street urchins would rob him before he woke up, I thought with a grin. He sure as hell didn't deserve a single fen of his money.

Republic City had the largest seaport in the world, twelve miles of docks, jetties, wharfs, piers, canals, and warehouses situated along the Mo Ce sealine. On one side of the sea was the Earth Kingdom, on the other side the Fire Nation, and the port itself was located in Republic City, capital of the United Nations, so it naturally became a hotspot for commerce. Hundreds of ships carrying goods from as far away as the Water Tribes – both poles – docked here every day. Their masts jutted out from the surrounding waters as numerous as trees in a forest. You can find _anything _in the port, and I do mean anything. Sailors unloaded gold, ivory, sandalwood, leechi nuts, banyan leaves, lapis stones, mangos, jennamite, crushed chili peppers, dragonscales…hell, I've even seen a traveling circus load a supposedly-extinct shirshu into their ship. During the day, standing at the docks was like standing at the center of the world.

Depot 37 was located in one of the warehouse districts. It was an old district, rows of identical buildings stacked against each other, their loading doors looming in the darkness like gaping maws. At night, the port was almost deserted; few ships took the risk of docking at night, and fewer still took the trouble of unloading their goods in darkness. I can see why the Triad would decide to use this place as a base – it would be easy to get lost here, easy for any meddling detectives to disappear and never be heard from again. The sulfurous sickled moon was my only companion as I trekked past warehouse after warehouse, scanning the brine-soaked metal plates for 34…35…36…

37. I stopped in front of a large wooden building, about twenty meters wide and thrice as long, its timbers rotted by seawater. It was an inconspicuous building, identical to the 36 warehouses preceding it save a few stains on the door that looked suspiciously like blood. I put my fist to the door and knocked – if the place was crawling with Triad members, I could just pretend to ask for directions (Triad members were pretty gullible, I've learned, all muscle and no brain. Just like Bolin). Nobody opened the door. I turned the handle. It was locked. Time for the old-fashioned way, then. Bracing my foot against the door, I gave it a kick that splintered the wood completely, tearing the whole door off its hinge. In the silent darkness, the crash it made was louder than a naval mine going off in a pond.

With the needling suspicion that Tahno had lied to me, I crept into warehouse, wary of an ambush that might be sprung at any moment. Inside was pitch black. I hesitated with the decision to use a flashlight – it would give away my position immediately, but then again, me kicking down the door probably did that already. I flicked it on. Swinging back and forth like a hanged man, the flashlight's beam cut a wide swathe of light through the interior.

I needn't have bothered with the precautions. The place was about half the size of the Arena and completely deserted, that much I saw at first glance. Dust choked the air tighter than a politician's purse strings, covering the floor and walls several centimeters thick. The air was muggy and stale, as if the place had not been opened for a long time. Small green weeds sprouted from between whatever was left of the floorboards. I walked deeper into the darkness, shining my flashlight on anything it could reach. Along the right wall was painted the crimson symbol of the Triple Threat Triad, three spirals merged at the center. So Tahno had not been completely lying – the Triple Threats had been here, but the question was: how long ago? I used my fingernail to chip away at the red paint. It flaked away easily.

Walking along the perimeter of the room, I scanned every corner and floorboard for any traces of Triad activity. The only thing I got for my troubles were frayed nerves. Occasionally, a chittering mole rat made me jump, or the darkness seemed to solidify into half a dozen gangsters, or the hiss of wind through the timbers had me convinced that someone was coming, but after six false starts I decided I was alone. After twenty minutes, I was certain of it. My only companions in the warehouse were the mole rats and mosquito flies – the place was as empty as Aang's tomb and nowhere near as clean. A frayed red scarf, the shattered glass of sake bottles, and a pile of burnt cigarettes were all I found. Nobody had been using this place for at least six months, least of all Zolt.

Tahno had lied to me.

I cracked my knuckles. I'd need to pay him another visit later, and this time I had an excuse to break a few ribs. He would pay for leading me on this wild pentapus chase.

And yet…I flicked my flashlight back and forth, watching the beam light up nothing but the dust motes. In the stillness, the three crimsons spirals seem to spin like a hypnosis swirl. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that this place wasn't as empty as it seemed. When you've been in the business for as long as I have, you develop a heightened sense of paranoia, and right now my paranoia was buzzing like a nest of buzzard wasps. Haven't I see some horror flicks that started this exact same way?

I was just being jumpy, I told myself. Alone, at the docks, during nighttime – it was enough to send anyone's nerves on edge. I was no more superstitious than any other person, but now, unbidden, surfaced stories of the Spirit World my mother used to tell me. Stories of Ko, the Face Stealer who tore the skin from your face and wore it as a mask; of Kyoshi, the judge who once massacred an entire village to catch a single criminal; of Hei Bai, the Forest Spirit, the six-limbed monster who resided inside a massive oak tree; of Wan Shi Tong, the Knowledge Spirit, who feasted on the brains of children; of the Painted Lady who cried tears of blood, of Tui and La, of Princess Yue, of Roku the Fire Bender and Kuruk the Water Bender, of the Eyeless Moths and the Fleasheaters and a hundred others that molded the stuff of nightmares.

I raked a hand through my hair. Taking a long, shuddering breath, I forced my heart to slow down. Get it together, Korra. You're not six years old anymore. How the hell can you expect to solve a case if you're scared of a little darkness? There's nothing here. The Spirit World doesn't exist. Do you really think Ko's just going to show up and start talking to you?

"Good evening, Avatar."

I screamed – I'll admit it, I screamed like a little girl. My flashlight clattered against the floor, its beam swinging wildly back and forth across the ceiling. I flailed my arms like a headless koala chicken and had already ran ten steps into the wall before I realized the voice had been a human voice. Then I realized who the voice belonged to and I screamed again.

Bei Fong stood in front of the doorway, her smirking face framed by the light of the moon.

"I came here to catch a tiger, but it seems I caught a rat instead."

"C-Chief Bei Fong, what a p-pleasant surprise," I finally managed after my vocal cords began working again. I wished it had been Ko instead. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I was about to ask _you_, Avatar." She stepped through the splintered door, a line of metalshirts filing in behind her. "My boys and I have been staking this place out for days. We heard that Zolt had set up base in one of these warehouses. Truthfully, we were just about to give up and dismiss it as a false lead, but then _you _show up out of nowhere. Care to tell me what you're doing in Triad territory, Avatar? Those screams you made couldn't have been the screams of an honest citizen."

Then it hit me like a shot to the kidneys – Tahno, that lying bastard. He had lead me straight into a trap. In the past, this warehouse might've been an actual base for the Triple Threats, but now it was simply a dud, a red herring to throw the metalshirts off their tracks. Tahno knew it was being watched and had purposely told me to come here hoping I'd be caught. I had followed like a koi on a hook.

"There's a good reason for this," I said, holding up my hands. "You wouldn't believe it, but I came here for the same reason you did. Small world, eh? I got a tip-off that Zolt had been seen here – "

"And I can move rocks with my mind. Save your excuses for the court, Avatar."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Cuff her, boys."

"You can't do this!" I protested as the metalshirts surrounded me. Six of them in all, too many for me to take, even if Bei Fong was out of the picture. "You can't arrest me just for being in the docks at night! What's Republic City come to, when an innocent girl can't even take a stroll at night without getting arrested?"

"Oh, suspicious activity in known Triad territory is plenty ground for an arrest," Bei Fong chuckled. "Besides, you've interfered with our investigations too many times to count. Remember Cabbage Corp.? I still remember. We have enough records on you to keep you locked up until Sozin's Comet comes again. Last time I checked Boiling Rock has a few vacancies left, aren't you a lucky girl? I heard the temperaturethere is lovely there this time of year."

That did it. Once in Boiling Rock, _always _in Boiling Rock. No way was I spending the rest of my life in the middle of a volcano. One of the metalshirts reached for me. I grabbed his hand and wrenched it backwards, feeling the satisfying _snap _that told me his wrist was broken. He staggered backwards, howling in pain. For half a second the rest of the metalshirts looked on in stunned silence, perhaps wondering who was stupid enough to take on six of them bare-handed, then they leapt into action. But that half-second had been enough.

"Get her!" Bei Fong shouted.

I darted between them, taking advantage of the darkness and confusion to insure I never stayed in sight of their flashlight beams for long. I was suddenly very grateful for the oppressive darkness. In daytime, I wouldn't even think of doing something this stupid. The problem with fighting metalshirts was…well, their metal shirts. It formed a protective body armor around them, impervious to bare fists. The only weak points were the joints where the metal tapered off into leather, but if you accidentally hit the metal part instead, you'd be liable to break a finger. Fighting metalshirts _with_ a weapon was already plenty difficult, and fighting them without one was suicide.

I've always thought living was overrated anyway.

Ducking down to avoid a wild haymaker, I kicked out at my attacker's knee, feeling his entire body buckle like a paper fan. He collapsed down onto one leg. I followed up with a vicious jab to his face, knuckles meeting flesh in a shower of blood. Something crunched underneath my fist. He sprawled against the floor, both hands clutching at the remnants of his broken nose. Bending over his body, I pounded his face again just for good measure – it probably wasn't necessary, but you could never be too sure, right? Blinding pain, I found, was almost as effective in taking someone out of a fight as straight-up icing them. I wiped the back of my hand against my shirt. It left a long crimson trail. Before the rest of the metalshirts could group up on me, I darted away again, tracking their movements by the light of their flashlights.

"You're going to regret this, Avatar," Bei Fong growled. "I'm not letting you get away again."

Contrary to her words, the remaining metalshirts were in disarray, their heavy armor merely a nuisance in the darkness against a foe they couldn't catch. They were split up, stumbling in every direction in order to find me. I let a flashlight beam linger on my body for a few seconds; one of the metalshirts gave a roar of triumph. He charged towards me, the plates of his armor clanking heavily with every accelerating steps. _Ole, _I thought, then spun around like a matador, sweeping my feet out low as he passed. The heel of my foot struck his shin. He crashed against the floor in a cloud of dust, the plates of his armor jangling like wind chimes. I stomped down hard across the back of his helmet. His head sank several inches into the ground. With a moan, he braced both hands against the floorboard, trying to push himself back up. I stomped down hard again. His body shuddered once and was still.

Three down, four more to go.

Maybe I'll actually get out of this with all my limbs intact, I thought, then I almost slapped myself for thinking that. First rule of the flicks was that you _never _hoped things would get better, because the moment you did, things always got worse. Right on cue, something slammed into my shoulder with enough force to send me careening. Instinctively, I whirled around, lashing out at my attacker. Bad idea. My fist hit solid plate mail with a _thud_ that told me I broke a few knuckles, the skin peeling away as it skid harmlessly along the metal. I tried to pull back as quickly as I could, but it was too late – the metalshirt had my wrist gripped in a massive gloved hand, holding it as easily as a twig. He was a giant, close to seven feet, the metal plates on his chest forming a solid wall. Curling his other hand into a fist, he drew it back and slammed it into my gut.

I doubled over, hacking for breath. Now I know how Tahno felt. Pungent and metallic, the taste of blood welled up in my mouth. I spat it out. At least two ribs had been cracked, probably more. The metalshirt, however, didn't let go of me. His face as stony as a tombstone, he drew his fist back once again.

Like hell I was going to let him hit me a second time. I jerked backwards with my caught hand, pulling him towards me as hard as I could. My wrist dislocated with a _snap_. I ignored the pain. It was like trying to pull an airship along the ground, but he was obviously unprepared for such strength coming from a girl half his size. He stumbled forward, pinwheeling to maintain his balance. If he recovered, I was done for. Just as he was about to crash into me, I aimed a knifehand strike to his throat, my arm whipping so fast I was afraid I pulled a tendon. Fingers met leather with enough force to crush the windpipe. He crumpled instantly. He let go of my hand, fingers scrabbling at his throat like a fish out of water.

He lay twitching on the floor. Panting, sweat pouring down my face, I staggered away. Served him right for hitting a lady. Oh well, he was a big guy, I'm sure it wouldn't kill him. He might even be able to speak again. Three months in the hospital at most, two if he got quick medical attention. But things weren't looking to end quickly any time soon.

"Impressive, Avatar," Bei Fong said. Next to her, the two remaining metalshirts had their flashlights trained on me, their hands shaking.

"She took down four…

"…even Big Bing…"

"Had enough?" I said, feeling none of the courage I was trying to effect. My breaths came out in sharp, quick gasps. A bead of pain coalesced in my broken wrist and lanced through my entire arm like a needle.

"Stay back, you two. There's no need for any more senseless violence," Bei Fong ordered them. She cinched brass knuckles around her hands, pounding them against each other. Their _clink_ made me flinch. "Shut off your flashlights. I'll finish her off myself."

The room plunged into complete darkness. The only thing visible was the doorway, a rectangle of light illuminated by the moon. I resisted the urge to rush towards the tranquil harbor beyond. That was the most obvious plan, which against Bei Fong spelled suicide as surely as jumping in front of a cannon. She was probably hiding near the door now, waiting for me to run straight into her jaws.

Instead, I backed further into the building, hoping to circle behind her. I wouldn't want to face Bei Fong on my best day, and right now I had a broken left hand and two cracked ribs. I was exhausted while she was fresh. If I fought her now, I stood less of a chance of winning than the Rabaroos have of becoming boxing champions. I pricked my ears, trying to locate her through her footsteps. She had probably wanted to catch me off-guard by having her guards shut off their flashlights, but all that accomplished was to even the playing field. I couldn't see her, but she couldn't see me either. If I was careful, I might just be able slip past her to the door.

There was a sound like flesh hitting dirt. I tensed, trying to judge where it came from, how close it had been. Did Bei Fong just…stomp the ground? I had no clue why she was giving away her position so readily, but I wasn't about to look an ostrich horse in the mouth. Keeping as far away from the source of the sound as possible, I slid along the right wall, inching closer and closer to the door. The darkness smothered me like a blanket, swallowing all of my movements. Still your heartbeat. Breathe as little as possible. As long as I moved quietly, there was no way Bei Fong would be able to find me.

Her fist solidified out of darkness. I slammed against the wall hard enough to splinter the wood, clutching at the tender bruise over my chest. Make that three broken ribs.

Panic swelled. I fought the overpowering urge to bolt for the door – my clattering footsteps would mark me a target as surely as painting a neon sign on my back. Stiffening my entire body, I forced myself to remain absolutely still, to give her no hint of my position. It was difficult to breath. How did she see me? Straining my eyes, I searched for Bei Fong in the darkness, but it was like trying to find a raven flying over the Black Cliffs during midnight. I saw nothing, felt nothing, heard nothing but my own pained gasps. Where would she strike next? From the right? From the left? From above?

From below. Her uppercut smashed into my chin, brass knuckles digging deep into the cleft of my jaw. I felt myself lifted an inch into the air. My head rung like a bell. I must have blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing I knew was my right cheek pressed tightly against the floor, the taste of dirt mingling with blood in my mouth. Shakily, I stood up. The darkness around me was absolute.

"Is that all you have, Avatar? I had hoped you'd put up a better show."

Her voice sounded everywhere at once. She was enjoying this, that sadist. How did she know where I was? She must have had the eyes of a cat owl. It didn't matter. My flesh was jelly over my bones. The inside of my cheek was a bloody mess. Muscles contracted and retracted, contracted and retracted, contracted and retracted, each cycle more excruciating than the cycle before. One more hit and I was done for. I steeled myself, biting on the red-hot desperation boiling in my throat. I was going down, but I wasn't going down without one last fight.

I closed my eyes.

From the left. All I felt was a rush of wind, a shift in the darkness, a prickling down my sweat-soaked skin. It was enough. I leaned forward _into _her blow. The impact was like a sledgehammer smashing into my shoulder, brass knuckles punching through flesh as if it were paper. My arm snapped backwards and hung limply at my side. The pain tasted like victory. With my one good hand I grabbed her wrist, my grip as sure as folded steel. Her arm struggled like a live snake.

"Gotcha," I muttered, and slammed my head forward.

My forehead struck her face with a _crack _like a twig snapping in two. Both us staggered backwards. For once in my life I was glad she was taller than I was; otherwise, my head would've smashed right into her helmet. My brain vibrated inside my skull like a tuning fork, but I knew the damage to her had been far worse. She moaned, her footsteps heavy and erratic in her lurch. _Now's your chance_, the final vestige of my consciousness screamed. _Get to the door._

I took two steps and stumbled. Vertigo caught me, darkness swirling like a cheap watercolor painting. I found myself lying on my back. Blood seeped into my eyes. It was not my blood. I grinned up at the darkness.

"You should not have done that, Avatar."

Her tone was tight, controlled, underscored by the low brass of anger. A sweeter tone I have never heard.

A rush of wind. From the right, this time, but it didn't matter. Something heavy smashed into the side of my head, and the darkness of the warehouse was replaced by the darkness of unconsciousness.


End file.
